I remember when you were born
A wavy-haired rebel
Squealing against our mother’s arms.
Now, Small shoes strike cement.
A pitter patter in pursuit
Of those fiery curls.
They follow the flames
Flickering from your head,
Unfettered.
Don’t blame them for wanting,
Chasing.
Innocent freedom is a fleeting Godhood,
And though you may fall in your play,
And grow into the scuffs of age,
My Prometheus brother:
You do not fall now.